


Not Just Woman's Work

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis | René d'Herblay-centric, Drabble, Gen, Medic Aramis | René d'Herblay, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Sewing, Tumblr Prompt, musketeer march
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: Aramis endures teasing from his friends as he tends to Athos' minor wounds after a skirmish with the Red Guards.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & d'Artagnan & Athos | Comte de la Fère & Porthos du Vallon
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190600
Kudos: 16





	Not Just Woman's Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privateerwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/gifts).



> It's a day late, but I thought you all would enjoy this! Credit for the prompt list goes to @privateerstudies on tumblr https://privateerstudies.tumblr.com/post/643477557598142464/musketeer-march

The Garrison was quiet, save for a few sounds of idle chatter. Aramis were leaning over a table; his features riddled with both guilt and focus at the same time. He had warned his comrades that a tussle with the Red Guards would lead to trouble, but of course. . . No one had listened. God, why did no one ever listen to him.  
  
The needle was held delicately between his lips as he focused on the thread; fine and delicate, just as his work needed to be. He thanked God that he’d had the sense to stay away from this difficult tussle. Athos’ uniform was ripped, nothing that could not be easily fixed. Aramis was more concerned with the gash beneath it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me how you got this? I can have Porthos knock you out if you need it, Athos. Please don’t be stubborn. I know you like to move too much after I’ve tended your wounds.”

“You should have been a physician. Or a woman. You fret like one.” That earned a hearty chuckle from the other Musketeers. Most of them were well acquainted with his skill set and had required him more than once.

“Enough. Hush, or you’ll make me stab you, Athos.” A simple stitch would do for this. But Aramis knew that his comrade was not the type to stay still for long, especially when his honor was on the line. Porthos looked worried, so he patted the gentle giant’s shoulder and hummed. He did not want to lose the thread when he had worked so hard to make certain that it was perfect.

“I will never understand his attention to detail.”, whispered D’Artagnan.

“It’s why he’s the best. Even the doctor says he’s never seen such a steady hand.”, Athos grunted, trying not to focus on the sting. They were not surprised, but it had always been interesting to watch Aramis work. He was fast, too. Porthos had grumbled more than once about his envy of their friend’s skills.

“Should have apprenticed with the doctor. That would have gotten him out faster.”

“Out of where?” D’Artagnan perked up. He had never heard much about Aramis’ upbringing, and learning more about the marksman interested him.

“Mm. Let’s not talk about my upbringing now, shall we, gents? I have about thirty stitches to go, and I need to focus.” That made everyone laugh, even Athos, who raised an eyebrow at him. Surely he realized that this was not the time such a conversation. He appeared to be focused to the three who knew him best.

“Sorry, ‘Mis.”

“You’re forgiven, Porthos. But interrupt me again and I will end up stabbing him. Now, can we please?” When he had finished, the boys all looked on in awe, all except for Athos who had fallen asleep. D’Artagnan smiled. He still wanted to know how his friend had done it. Even with Constance showing him, he was hopeless. His hands always shook when he attempted any sort of needlework. Even Aramis had offered to show him, but he knew he’d never get the hang of such tedious work.

“I wonder if he still thinks I should have been a woman?”

“I doubt it. He’ll never say it out loud, but he’s glad one of us knows.”

“Oh. To answer your curiosity; I grew up largely around women. You pick things up. That’s all you need to know; it answers your question sufficiently enough. If I ever want you to know more, I’ll tell you. Tell me, D’Artagnan, how are you with such things?”

“Impossible. I could never learn.” Aramis hummed again, a flicker in his eyes that reminded his companion of the glint on a needle when the light struck it just right.

“I might be persuaded to teach you. There’s a myth that such things are woman’s work, but they can be done by anyone. A doctor or a tailor, perhaps. I used to practice with scraps of fabric my mother would bring me. I came from difficult circumstances, you see. It’s amazing, the things you learn growing up the bastard of a nobleman and a whore. Stitching holds things together. I like to think it held me together more than once. Now, shall we get a drink? If you wish, I’ll tell you more.” Tipping his hat, he took hold of D’Artagnan’s shoulder and grinned in Porthos’ direction.

“Keep an eye on him for me, Porthos. And tell him that if he ruins my work again, there might be hell to pay!”


End file.
